


Fluid

by NachoDiablo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bill ships it, F/F, Falling In Love, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid tonks, Getting Together, Sirius Black Being Ridiculous, so does wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10354023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo
Summary: Everyone says that Nymphadora Tonks is clumsy, but Fleur sees the grace in her movements.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because wolfstar doesn't break my heart enough, I started shipping these two badass ladies as well.

Everyone says that Nymphadora Tonks is clumsy, but Fleur knows better.

 

Bill has been bringing Fleur around for Order meetings since they started seeing each other a few months ago. People think that her brusque facade and direct manner mean that she doesn’t see other people. That she’s self centered. That she’s judgmental.

 

People write many stories about her, but they don’t know, they can’t know, that her brashness is a shield, a way to show the world that she is not someone who can be manipulated. Predators can smell weakness, and they are quick to assume that a kind smile and polite demeanor are signs of easy prey.  _ You’ll like this _ , they say.  _ I saw the way you looked at me, you want this _ , they say.

 

Fleur learned a long time ago that her safety depends on being strong, unruffled, self-possessed at all times. One sign of hesitation, and a predator will begin circling her, eyes roaming her body, lips spilling trite compliments, bait that they think will lure her in, a naive girl who is eager for approval.

 

She has not been a naive girl in a long time. Her shield has become a second skin, separating her from those who are dazzled by her veela strain (what about her natural beauty?), her charm (isn’t it intelligence?), her sex appeal (it’s confidence, and why shouldn’t she have it?), keeping her protected, though aloof.

 

Everyone says that Nymphadora Tonks is clumsy, but Fleur sees the grace in her movements.

 

She watches the older girl as she scrambles through the floo at Grimmauld Place, knocking over an end table while landing on her feet. She watches as Nymphadora slaps Sirius on the back before giving Remus a tight side-hug, causing the werewolf to nearly fall over from the brunt of her enthusiasm. She watches as Moody gives the pink-haired pixie a fond smile, horrid though it may look on his gnarled face, as he is pounded firmly on the back in greeting. 

 

Nymphadora Tonks does not analyze every movement, every word, every glance. There is no calculation in her actions. She is brusque and direct, just as Fleur is, but differently, in a way that’s more open and honest. More playful. More joyful.

 

At first, Fleur assumes that the metamorphmagus is interested in Remus, with whom she is constantly joking and teasing, peppering him with bubbly jokes that he returns with dry sarcasm and a wry grin. This concern- no, not a concern, just a passing thought- dissipates when she notices how often Remus and Sirius are holding hands, whispering in each others’ ears, exchanging fond glances. Remus is a good man, but he is not the man for Nymphadora Tonks.

 

Fleur has known precious few good men in her life. Bill is one of them. He sees past her armour, but still admires it, not asking her to shed it for him. He’s a kind man. Fleur cares for him a great deal. It’s nice, being with him, and nice is something she thinks she can be content with. It’s comfortable. It’s pleasant.

 

In the end, Bill knows her better than she knows herself.  _ This isn’t what you want,  _ he says. 

 

Fleur is startled, lying next to him, her face pressed against his chest. She thinks about denying it, coming up with all the right words she can say to convince him otherwise, but she can’t voice them. Not to Bill, who will know she’s singing a false tune.

 

_ I don’t know what I want,  _ she says instead.

 

Bill tips her chin upwards with his fingers, smiling down at her.  _ Maybe not. But you know what you don’t want. The rest will come in time. _

 

His arms tighten around her, and Fleur thinks that she’s never loved him more.

 

Everyone says that Nymphadora Tonks is clumsy, but Fleur sees her fluidity, as she moves seamlessly from one expression to another.

 

Some days, she strolls into headquarters with her hair long, a rainbow of colors melding into each other, curves exaggerated as she swaggers down the hall in angry boots. Some days, she is lithe and bouncy, her short pink pixie cut a mess from Sirius ruffling it. Some days, she is sharp angles, a light stubble dusted across her cheeks, her shoulders a touch broader than usual.

 

Every day she is different, and yet every day she is the same. She changes her appearance to complement how she’s feeling that particular day, but the various skins are still  _ her _ at their heart. Her different personas are not like Fleur’s armor. They aren’t an overstatement; they are an enhancement of something already there. She flows effortlessly from one comfortable presentation to the next, not bothered by the raised eyebrows and tight-lipped frowns of some of the elder Order members.

 

_ Don’t think Molly cares much for your goatee, Dora. _ Sirius is loud enough that Fleur can hear him from the other side of the library, where she is reviewing some research with Bill.

 

_ I don’t particularly care for it myself. You look like a muggle cartoon villain.  _ Fleur bites her lip at Remus’ response. She has been careful not to be seen enjoying the antics of the two marauders and their new sidekick. She knows it would be too easy to let her mask slip around someone like Nymphadora Tonks, someone so guileless and open, so eager to embrace the truth in herself and others.

 

_ You’re one to talk, Remus. We all remember your creepy mustache days. Merlin’s pants, the first time I met you, I checked the curb in front of Grimmauld Place to see if you’d driven here in a windowless van. _

 

Fleur holds her breath, willing herself not to laugh at the metamorphmagus’ comment. She, too, remembers Remus’ horrid mustache, as well as the day that Sirius put a full body bind on him and shaved it off (along with half an eyebrow) triumphantly in the middle of an Order happy hour.

 

The memory proves to be too much for Fleur’s self control as a small snort of laughter escapes from her lips. Her eyes widen in surprise as she claps a hand over her mouth, looking up to see if the marauders have noticed. 

 

She sees Nymphadora Tonks staring back at her in surprise, a small smile spreading across her face, her cheeks reddening slightly as she realizes that Fleur isn’t looking away. Fleur knows she should look away, but those almond-shaped eyes are locked into her own, and for one second, she allows her veil to slip, just slightly, just enough for one of her real, relaxed grins to flash across her face, before she regains her composure and looks back down towards her work.

 

She does not look up when she hears Sirius snickering, whispering something indecipherable to the other two. She does not look up when she hears Sirius shriek as his chair is thrown backwards, causing him to tumble across the floor. She does not look up when she hears Remus mutter something about how  _ babysitting an infant was never this trying _ .

 

She does look up, however, when she hears the metamorphmagus stalk out of the room, pausing to look back at Fleur’s table. When she realizes that Fleur is watching her, she beams brilliantly before heading out the door with a roguish wink, causing Fleur’s breath to catch slightly, though she merely scowls when she sees that Bill is giving her a knowing look.

 

Everyone says that Nymphadora Tonks is clumsy, but Fleur knows better.

 

She is nothing but graceful when she starts dropping onto the couch next to Fleur after meetings, declaring that she will not sit next to Sirius while he’s wearing that horrible bowtie that sings, when she brushes her hand over Fleur’s shoulder, claiming that she saw a spider, when she tucks a lock of Fleur’s hair behind her ear, affirming that blue eyes as bright as hers should not be hidden.

  
Everyone says that Nymphadora Tonks is clumsy, but when she pulls Fleur aside during the Order holiday party, resting their foreheads together, tangling a hand in her hair, pulling their hips closer, brushing their lips together, Fleur thinks she’s never felt any movement so elegant.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hit me up on Tumblr and let me know what you think. My main blog (wolfstar focus) is @nachodiablo, and my femslash side blog is @fleur-tonks.


End file.
